The mafia boss was in the middle of a meeting with the most dangerous men in Seattle when he received an emergency call about a dying baby girl at his

hospital and froze when he discovered she was his ex-lover’s daughter. Before we begin, drop a comment telling us

which city you are watching from, and do not forget to rate this story from 0 to 10 when it ends. Now, sit back and enjoy

every detail. The crystal chandeliers of Russo Tower’s penthouse cast sharp shadows across the mahogany conference

table as Lorenzo Russo surveyed the room full of crime lords who had come to negotiate territory. At 36, his presence

alone was enough to silence a room full of killers. But tonight, something felt different. Maybe it was the storm

brewing outside, lightning slashing through the Seattle skyline like a warning. Or maybe it was the anniversary

approaching. Exactly 1 year since Scarlet walked out of his life without a word. Lorenzo’s reflection caught in the

floor to ceiling windows as he swirled his glass of whiskey, his fourth of the night. Tall with broad shoulders that

filled out his three-piece black Armani suit perfectly. He had the kind of presence that made even the most

ruthless men avoid his gaze. His dark hair was always immaculately styled, even during the longest negotiations,

framing steel gray eyes that could read a man’s lies before he finished speaking. A faded scar ran along his

left cheekbone, a reminder of the night his father was assassinated when he was 16. The PC Philippe watch on his wrist

cost more than most people’s houses. And his hands, those hands had ended more lives than anyone in this room could

count. The Russo Empire had just acquired another hospital chain worth $200 million, making headlines in

business journals across the country. Everyone called him ruthless, untouchable, the king who had turned his

father’s crumbling organization into a legitimate dynasty. What they did not know was that he could not sleep at

night. That every time he closed his eyes, he saw auburn hair and green eyes that haunted him like a ghost he could

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the most dangerous man in Seattle discovers he has a daughter he never knew existed. The conference room door

flew open, drawing every eye in the room toward it. Enzo Moretti stepped inside, the face of the 34year-old man who was

usually cold and composed, now stretched tight with tension, the veins along his neck standing out starkly. Lorenzo

frowned slightly, because in 10 years, as the right hand of Don Russo, Enzo had never dared to interrupt a meeting this

important. Enzo leaned in and whispered into Lorenzo’s ear, his voice as if he

were forcing himself to stay in control. There’s an emergency at Seattle General, sir. A four-month-old baby girl is

dying. Lorenzo didn’t move. His steel gray eyes remained fixed on the territorial map spread across the table.

Hospitals have hundreds of doctors, he replied coldly. Why would they need me? Enzo swallowed, hesitating for a second

before continuing. Because the baby’s mother is named Scarlet Hayes. The whiskey glass in Lorenzo’s hand slipped

from his fingers and shattered on the floor. The sound of breaking glass echoing through the suddenly silent

room. The entire table froze. The most notorious crime bosses in Seattle collectively held their breath as they

witnessed something they hadn’t seen in 20 years. Lorenzo Russo lost control. The mafia boss’s face drained of color

in an instant. His gray eyes widening as if someone had just driven a knife straight through his chest. That name,

the name he had tried to bury through 365 sleepless nights, the name he had forbidden anyone in the organization to

ever speak. Scarlet. What did you say? Lorenzo asked again, his voice trembling

in a way he didn’t even recognize. Enzo repeated each word slowly. Scarlet Hayes. She ran into the emergency room

20 minutes ago carrying a baby girl. The child stopped breathing. The doctors are doing everything they can, but her

condition is critical. Lorenzo shot to his feet. the expensive leather chair crashing backward with a loud thud. He

didn’t look at the men in the room, didn’t explain, didn’t apologize. He charged toward the door like a madman,

leaving behind a room full of killers staring at one another in shock. Get the car ready. Lorenzo snarled as he stepped

into his private elevator. Enzo ran after him, already dialing the drivers. But one question kept drilling into

Lorenzo’s mind, stealing his breath. A 4-month-old baby. Scarlet left one year

ago. 4 months plus 9 months of pregnancy made 13 months. That wasn’t possible. Or

maybe it was. Lorenzo leaned back against the elevator wall. Hands that had taken lives without flinching, now

shaking uncontrollably. If that baby was his child, if Scarlet had been carrying his blood when she left, then for an

entire year she had faced everything alone. And he, the most powerful boss in Seattle, hadn’t known a thing. The

elevator doors opened in the basement, and Lorenzo lunged into the black Mayback, idling in weight. Drive,” he

ordered, his voice sharp as a blade. “As fast as you can.” The car roared into the storm, and Lorenzo Russo realized

his hands were clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white. For the first time in 20 years since the night his

father was assassinated right in front of him, the mafia boss felt fear. Rain lashed against the car windows like

thousands of tiny bullets. But Lorenzo heard nothing except the heavy pounding of his own heart inside his chest. The

Maybach tore through the streets of Seattle at a reckless speed. Red lights and traffic signs rendered meaningless

as Don Russo’s convoy swept past. Enzo sat in the passenger seat, constantly calling for updates from the hospital,

but Lorenzo didn’t hear a single word. His mind had drifted back 18 months earlier to the fateful night that

changed his life forever. He met Scarlet in a dark alley in Capitol Hill. She was being cornered against a wall by three

thugs, her bag of art supplies scattered across the ground. Yet, there wasn’t a trace of fear in her green eyes. She

held a can of pepper spray aimed at them, her voice shaking but still sharp. One more step and you’re blind. Lorenzo

had planned to walk away because things like that happened every night in Seattle and they weren’t his problem.

But something in the young woman’s gaze made him stop. Pride. Stubborn defiance. Like a small flame refusing to go out in

the middle of a storm. He stepped out of the shadows and with just one look from Lorenzo’s steel gray eyes, the three

thugs fled without a trace. Scarlet didn’t thank him. She simply looked him up and down and asked a question that

made him laugh for the first time in years. Who are you that you look scarier than they do? That night, he drove her

home to her small apartment on the outskirts of the city. She was an artist making a living by sketching portraits

for tourists at Pike Place Market and selling landscape paintings to cafes. She didn’t know he was Lorenzo Russo.

She only knew him as Lorenzo, a businessman, a mysterious man who appeared on late nights with tired eyes

and a rare smile. 6 months. Six months, Lorenzo lived a different life beside Scarlet. He didn’t tell her about the